


Club Night

by MissScarlett75



Category: Stydia - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Girl Power, Jealous Lydia, Lydia and Malia trying to have a friendship, Lydia and Malia working together, Lydia coaching Malia on girl stuff, Stiles being protective, Stiles in the middle of two girls who love him, Stydia, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 08:32:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4997947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScarlett75/pseuds/MissScarlett75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After all the late nights chasing all kinds of crazy creatures (literally and figuratively), a single Lydia prefers to spend any free nights she has home alone watching old TV shows and feeling sorry for herself. So when Stiles insists on a club night, Lydia is less than enthused. Especially when Stiles is requesting Lydia's presence per Malia's request to learn the ins and outs of clubbing. Lydia finds herself roped into going out with the two lovebirds and of course immediately regrets it.  But as is the usual when interacting with supernatural creatures, the night does not exactly go as planned. Lydia and Malia are faced to fend for themselves and must band together in order to survive the night.  And if the two manage to survive, Lydia has some particular feelings about Stiles she can't ignore. Or will she?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Club Night

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't a fan of Malia at the beginning, but have slowly warmed up to her as she received more screen time and the audience got to know her better. I thought it would be interesting to explore a friendship between Lydia and Malia. They have such conflicting personalities, but there is one thing they have in common: Stiles. I had more fun than I expected writing their interactions between Lydia and Malia, and throwing Stiles in added another dynamic too. Normally I don't like love triangles, but this whole situation was just too fun to resist! Plus, I wanted to see what would happen if Lydia and Malia were forced to work together. Would they succeed? Hope you enjoy this little story and thanks for reading!!

 

“Hey.” Lydia jumped and whirled around. It was Stiles. She brought a hand to her chest.

“Hi,” Lydia said, slamming her locker door harder than necessary.

“Whoa, are you ok?” Stiles immediately asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Lydia said, with a wave of her hand. No way did she want to get into the fact that encountering new supernatural creatures and dead bodies on literally a daily basis was spooking her beyond belief. She couldn’t go anywhere without fear of a new discovery, mostly consisting of a lot of blood. Lydia was tired of coming home and wiping blood off the bottom of her shoes.

“So, I want to ask you something. Malia’s been bugging me about going clubbing. I figured, what better person than you to go with?” Stiles held out his hands, indicating her. He faltered when he saw Lydia’s face. “I mean, if you want to of course. No one is making you go...really…” He trailed off as he awkwardly scratched his head.

“I don’t really go clubbing,” Lydia said, raising her eyebrows at Stiles.  She stood back and leaned against her locker, books clutched to her chest.

“But you’ve been before, right?”

“Obviously. But those were only a few times. There are just too many sweaty bodies all trying to stick their tongues down your throat. No thanks. I would rather go to parties. Or better yet, college parties.  With college guys.”

“Right. But I told Malia that you’ve been before and she has her heart set of all three of us going together.”

“Really?” Lydia sighed. God only knew why Malia wanted to go clubbing so badly. Was it the whole thing in Mexico? She knew from Kira that Malia particularly enjoyed the dancing.

“Well...yeah. I mean, that’s why I’m asking you.”

“Ok, fine. Whatever,” Lydia said. She rolled her eyes and started walking away from Stiles.  The last thing she wanted was to go clubbing, especially with Stiles and Malia of all people. But it didn’t look like she had much choice in the matter.

“Yes!” Stiles thrust his fists in the air triumphantly. “Thank you! You won’t regret this! Well...not much at least…”

Lydia just shook her head as she made her way to her next class.

 

“Ok, so when you think clubbing, you think tight dresses and black, lots of black.” Lydia paced the floor of her bedroom, while Malia laid back on her bed, elbows propped.

“Tight and black, got it.” Malia frowned. “Kind of.”.

“Well, it doesn’t _have_ to be black, necessarily,” Lydia said, reconsidering. “But it’s better to be black.”

“Ok, whatever.” Malia gestured over to their shopping bags. “I think we’re good, though. There seems to be quite a selection of dresses here.”     

“Yes, well, I’ve got quite a few hand me downs from my cousins and stuff. Some of it will fit you, some will fit me.” Lydia shrugged. “What is way too short for you would fit me better, and clothes with bigger bodices would fit you better. So let’s just see what we have, shall we?”  Lydia started to pull out dress, after dress. Most were black, some leather, others with lace.           

Malia appeared unimpressed. “This is it?”           

“Yes,” Lydia snapped at her. “Unless you happen to find something in my closet that better suits you.”  She pursed her lips as Malia jumped up and opened Lydia’s closet door.           

Malia almost immediately held up a grey printed leopard dress from the back that Lydia had never worn in her life. It possibly might have been one of her cousin’s; a several year-old hand me down from a while back. It had quite a scooped neck.

Lydia raised her eyebrows. “That?”           

“Yes,” Malia said firmly. “And I’ll wear a lacy bra, so which will show above the neckline. It’ll make my boobs look fantastic!” Malia excitedly bounced around the room.

“Whatever you want,” Lydia said under her breath. Dear lord. Out of all the dresses, Malia chose _that_ one _?_ She was a werecoyote after all, but Lydia would have thought Malia had let that animalistic part of her past go. Apparently not. Malia had chosen the only thing resembling a wild creature that Lydia possessed in her closet.  Lydia tossed her a pair of black strappy heels.

“Ugh,” Malia complained. “I don’t know if I can _stand_ in these, let alone walk.”           

“You’ll get used to it,” Lydia said.  “It just takes practice. Walk up and down the room a bit.”           

Malia groaned.  She shoved the heels onto her feet and slowly put one foot in front of the other. She tottered precariously a couple of times, but after several more steps, got the hang of it.           

“I’m going to go with this one,” Lydia mused aloud as she sorted through the dresses on her bed. It was a black bandaged dress with a deep V neck. Pair the dress with heels and it would be perfect. Simple but fit for a club.           

Since they had their dresses picked out, Lydia then took to making over Malia. Sure, she wasn’t Malia’s biggest fan, but there was no way Lydia was letting her go to a club without the proper makeup and hair.           

“Ow,” Malia complained, as Lydia grabbed her chin and directed her face to the light. “Do you have to do that?”           

“Yes, we are applying makeup. Something which you don’t know anything about. Obviously.”  Lydia hesitated and squinted at Malia’s face. “What is on your eyelids?”           

“Eyeliner, duh.”           

“Um…” ‘It looked different than Lydia was used to.  It was oddly shiny in the light and the color tooperfect.  Upon closer inspection, it had a kind of matte look to eyeliner that Lydia had never seen before. She frowned and took make-up remover, applying it to Malia’s eyelid. She wanted to start from scratch. Plus, the application was awful, not to mention that there was a weirdly familiar stench radiating from Malia. It made Lydia’s eyes water being this close, but she couldn’t put a finger on what exactly it was. “It’s not coming off.”           

Malia shrugged. “I used eyeliner, though.  And I’m so proud, I applied it pretty well, too! There are no smudges or anything.  You have no idea how long I practiced.” She beamed at the mirror.           

Lydia looked closer, she didn’t have the heart to tell Malia the contrary to that statement. “I’ve never seen eyeliner like this...It looks like a marker. Wait a minute...you used a Sharpie, didn't you? A permanent marker on your _eyes?”_ Oh god. Lydia felt a headache coming on. She couldn’t deal with this right now.  That’s why the eyeliner looked this way. That’s what the smell was.  It had been the smell of a Sharpie permanent marker.           

“Yeah, I mean, I had them in my backpack. And that’s what eyeliner is, right? Just a marker?”           

“No, _sweetheart_ , it’s not,” Lydia said through gritted teeth. “I don’t think I can get this off. I think it has to slowly fade away or something.”           

“Oh.” Malia remained unfazed.             

“Next time, don’t ever, ever, put something as toxic as permanent marker on your skin.  Especially near your _eyes._ Please.  The ink just isn’t good for your skin. For the love of god, don’t put it on again.”           

“Ok, ok,” Malia said. “Calm down.”           

Lydia let out a huge sigh. “Ok, I’ll just apply some _proper_ eyeliner to the bottom of your eyes, since it looks like you could use some there. And then for the mascara.”           

“Ok, now how does this look?” Lydia stepped aside so Malia could get a view of herself in the mirror.           

“Ohh, I like this!  I look fierce!” Malia jumped up and started posing in front of the mirror. Lydia had rimmed Malia’s eyes in kohl to give her a smoky eye. She also added a hint of silver shadow, to complement the gray in her dress. Lydia gave Malia a dark red lip as well, figuring it was clubbing, so it was ok to have a daring eye _and_ lip look. Malia's hair hung in soft curls, perfectly framing Lydia's handiwork.  She turned around and said in a softer voice, “Thanks, Lydia. This means a lot.”           

“No problem,” Lydia said, with a small smile. “Now, I’m going to go change into my dress. You’ll be ok out here?”           

“I lived in the woods by myself for years, I think I can handle staying alone in a bedroom.”           

“Fair enough,” Lydia said.  Usually, Lydia and Allison always changed in the same room, whenever they had events to go to. But somehow, with Malia, Lydia just didn’t feel comfortable. Lydia was 5’3” and curvy and petite and Malia, the opposite.  Sure, Allison had an opposite body type as well, but Lydia just didn’t want to expose herself to Malia like that. She just couldn’t explain why; she just didn’t feel comfortable.           

Lydia locked herself in the bathroom to get ready. When finished, she fluffed her straightened hair one final time and went back to her bedroom.             

She heard a familiar guy’s voice say, “Wow, Malia...you look...beautiful.”           

“And you’re hot, as always,” Malia said.           

Lydia arrived in the doorway to see Stiles and Malia making out on her bed. Malia’s boobs were already coming out of her dress. Lydia froze, absolutely disgusted.           

“Really, guys?” Lydia crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.             

Stiles immediately climbed off of Malia when he saw her. “Whoa, sorry…” He cleared his throat. “Um...did I mention you look really hot by the way? I mean, that dress! Wow!”  Stiles blushed.           

Lydia gave an abrasive smile.  Stiles tried to straighten his shirt as Malia climbed off the bed and adjusted her dress. Stiles stopped mid-shirt tug and watched, distracted as Malia’s boobs bounced up and down in the process.

Lydia just rolled her eyes at Stiles. “Now that my eyes are officially burning, is everyone set for tonight?”

“Of course,” Malia said, while Stiles said, “Yeah and dressed to impress!”

This was when Lydia finally got a good look.  Stiles, while really hot in black, wore his shirt all the way buttoned to his neck, sleeves down, shirt tucked in. She took a deep breath to still her pulse. She was ashamed to admit this, but Stiles got her all hot and bothered, regardless of how inappropriate he looked for the club right now.

“You need so much help with that attire of yours.”

“What are you talking about?” Malia demanded, obviously offended for the sake of her boyfriend.

“I think I look fine,” Stiles said defensively.

“Yeah...no.  May I remind you this is a _club_?” Lydia stormed over to Stiles and rather forcefully, unbuttoned his shirt by three buttons, untucked his shirt and rolled up his sleeves, standing back to survey her handiwork. “Better... _much_ better.”

“Ugh, I feel so... _uncomfortable_ wearing this to a club,” Stiles said, fidgeting in his clothes.  “Like they are just _hanging_ off of me.  And having stuff just hanging off of me like this in a place where people are clinging all over you seems dangerous?”

“All I did was unbutton, untuck and unroll. I really don’t understand how that qualifies as uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, well...I do, I can’t help it,” Stiles said.  Lydia just shook her head helplessly.

“Is everyone all set _now?_ Honestly, we are just going clubbing. Seriously.  I didn’t know it would be such a big production.”

Just then the doorbell rang. Lydia went to get the door. Her friend, Dan waited for them. He was Lydia’s next door neighbor and the guy she always sought for free alcohol and fake IDs.  

“Here they are,” Dan said, holding out the IDs.

“Oh my god, thank you! You are the best,” Lydia said. “$200, right?”

“Yup,” Dan said. “Thank _you._ ”

Lydia smiled back. Dan was looking at her weird. “Anything else?”

“No, um...that’s it.” Dan still stared at her.

“Ok, well...thank you again, Dan.”  Lydia then literally closed the door in his face. She didn’t know what else to do. He hadn’t stepped away or anything.

“Here are your fake IDs,” Lydia said excitedly, holding them out with a flourish to Stiles and Malia. They had followed her down the stairs.

“Nice,” Malia said, immediately grabbing hers. “They do good work!”

Stiles shook his head in agreement. “I’m impressed.”

Malia turned the card over and over in her hands. “Wait...why do we need these again?”

“Because we are breaking the law, pretty much,” Stiles said. “But you know, it’s nothing new for us, right Lydia?”

Lydia smiled. “Nope, nothing new.”

Malia shrugged. “Whatever you say.”  She put the ID away in her purse. “You know, that guy totally had the hots for you,” Malia said, smirking.

“Who, _me?_ ” Lydia asked, astonished.  It had honestly never occurred to her.  Though now that Malia mentioned it, she was probably right.  Lydia just had always been distracted by other guys, whether it was Jackson, Aiden or...Stiles.

“Yes, _you,_ ” Malia said, “and man, did he want you bad. The scent of lust was hanging all over him.”

Lydia suddenly felt uncomfortable for some odd reason. Both Stiles and Malia were staring at her.

“Well, I don’t really care,” she said.

“Why not?” Malia asked. “It’s not like you’re with anyone right now.”

“I just need a break.” Lydia shrugged.

“You just lied to me,” Malia said.

“No, I didn’t,” Lydia said.

“Yes, you did.” Malia crossed her arms. “I heard your heartbeat.”

“Ok, fine,” Lydia snapped, “there’s somebody else I like. Is that enough for you?” Her face burned. She didn’t dare look at Stiles, but she felt his eyes boring into her.

“Who--”

“And no, that’s where I draw the line. Mind your own business, for the love of god.”

“Your business _is_ my business,” Malia insisted. “If I was better at this whole scent thing, I would know who it was anyway. But since I haven’t quite mastered that ability completely and for some odd reason, I particularly have trouble reading my friends...I say right here and now that yes, your business is my business. Deal with it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, I _won’t_.”

“Yes, it is. Now tell me who it is!”

“I can’t do this anymore!” Lydia threw up her hands. “Are we going clubbing or not? You need me. I can easily just ditch you guys here and let you go handle everything on your own. I’m more than happy to spend the night in bed watching _The O.C._ reruns. That’s how I’ve been spending most my Saturday nights anyway.  It’s up to you.”

“Fine,” Malia grumbled. Lydia saw Malia look quickly between her and Stiles, brow creased. “Let’s just go, since you won’t tell me anything.”

Lydia just rolled her eyes and pushed Malia out the door.           

“Oh my god, this is amazing,” Malia said.  Stiles expertly parked the Jeep down the street and they now approached the doorway to the club.  There was a line formed outside and two bouncers stood in front, shining their special lights at the IDs.  People talked happily, all dressed out in their clubbing best.  Others stood around, obviously drunk to their friends’ delight. One person already stood at the curb, throwing up in the street           

“You think _this_ is amazing? This is just the beginning, sweetheart.” Lydia led them to the end of the line, giving both Malia and Stiles the once-over.  Whenever she went clubbing, she always worried about getting caught, no matter how good their fake IDs were. Lydia had her Ivy League future on the line and Stiles would certainly be in trouble, being as his Dad was the Sheriff and all.           

“Yeah! Going clubbing, whoaaa!” Stiles said, bobbing his hand and waving his arms around. “We are _so_ cool!”           

Lydia raised her eyebrows.  Stiles winked and gave her the thumbs up. Stiles was being adorably awkward but there was no way she would admit it.

“Sorry, but not really.” She forced herself to turn away from his broad grin and sparkling eyes and spent the rest of the time in line with her back facing him. It was better for her this way.           

It was a breeze getting past the bouncers. As long as everyone had the cash to get in, they didn’t care. This club was notorious for that and part of the reason Lydia had picked it.  But Lydia always knew that it was never a guarantee about admittance and blew out a sigh of relief as her, Malia and Stiles made it through without a hitch.

“There is seriously not enough alcohol at this bar that could get me to enjoy all of this,” Lydia said.  She and Stiles looked on as Malia immediately entered the surging crowd and joined in the grinding on the dance floor. Lydia felt a twinge of jealousy. Malia fit right in and appeared totally natural.  She didn’t any coaching whatsoever from Lydia on how to act in a club.  A couple guys soon found her and she continued the grinding but managed to keep her distance. Stiles didn’t seem too bothered.  If anything, his attention was all on Lydia, which Lydia obviously didn’t mind.

“Not that I’m particularly advocating this…. but then what’s stopping you from at least trying?” Stiles asked.           

Lydia turned to him, tongue in cheek. “Really?”

“Oh, right. I forgot. You’re over this clubbing thing. It’s all about the college parties, now, huh?”

“Obviously.  They are way more fun than this,” she said, motioning to the crowd, “could ever be.”

Stiles shrugged. “Eh, I doubt that.  You’re being melodramatic.”

Lydia raised her eyebrows. “Really? So you’ve been to a college party before, Stiles?”

He flushed. “Well...no.”

“So there’s the end of that discussion,” Lydia said. “And with that, you drove me to drink, Stiles. Literally.”

Stiles held out his arms. “Well, it looks like you are going to have to drag me down with you.”

Five minutes later and they were each holding drinks in their hands.  Stiles drank a scotch while Lydia had a margarita.

“Oh god, it burns, it burns!” Stiles said, choking on his drink. He had taken a big gulp.

“It’s alcohol. _Hard_ alcohol to be exact. That’s what it does,” Lydia said matter-of-factly.  

“I _hate_ it,” Stiles said. He made a face. “Where’s the nice alcohol, where I can get drunk without coughing up my intestines?”  

“You _have_ had this kind of alcohol before, haven’t you?” Lydia recalled a time Scott told her about when Stiles had brought Scott into the woods after he and Allison broke up.  Stiles ended up practically drinking a whole bottle of Jack Daniels himself.

“Yeah, but--” Malia appeared behind Stiles just then, wrapping her arms around him. She was barely sweaty, just a couple drops on her forehead, but the rest of her face and hair remained intact. The girl was gorgeous, much to Lydia’s annoyance.

“Well, _I_ love it,” Malia said.  Lydia presumed that Malia’s coyote hearing enabled her to hear their entire conversation. “Do you mind?” Before Stiles could respond, Malia had already grabbed his drink and drank it, taking several small consecutive sips until she had finished the drink in under a minute. “It hurts so good.” She grinned at them.

“I have to say, that’s impressive,” Lydia said, though she hated to give Malia that satisfaction.

“Impressive and just plain _weird._ You scare me sometimes, honestly,” Stiles commented.  

“I try,” Malia said, tossing her hair back.

“When did you ever try this stuff before anyway?” Stiles asked.

“A couple guys were nice enough to buy me drinks before.” She paused to waggle her fingers at two blonde haired guys at the bar. “Now come and dance with me, Stiles.”

“I suck,” Stiles said. “Hey, remember that blacklight party, Lydia? That was basically a highlight reel of my _good_ dancing, sad to say.”

“I don’t know,” Lydia said, “while it was awkward, I also thought it was kind of...well, cute.” She shrugged. Then realizing what she said, felt herself flush. Did she just say that?

“Wait...really?” Stiles asked.  His whole face lit up.

“Yeah,” Lydia said, flushing even more. They stared at each other for a few minutes. It was like there was no one around, no loud music, no obnoxious people bumping into them, and...no Malia. It was _that_ quiet.

When Lydia broke their connection, she soon realized why. Malia wasn’t around. She had already made her way out to the dance floor, finding a more willing dance partner in yet another guy.  Thank god she hadn’t noticed that weird thing that happened between her and Stiles.

“Well, this does wonders for a guy’s self-esteem,” Stiles joked. “My own girlfriend ditched me to dance with complete strangers.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’d rather dance with you than any of these sketchy desperate guys.” Lydia wrinkled her nose at the guys on the dance floor.  Just the way they gyrated over any girl available was just so unappealing to her. What happened to giving a girl some space? Letting the girl make the decision for a change?   At least when she danced with Jackson, it was more natural, being how they were going together. He wasn’t some odd stranger forcing himself on her.

“That does make me feel better,” Stiles said.  He smiled.  Lydia felt so light all of a sudden, like she could just float away on the high that Stiles’ smile gave her. She smiled back.  Before she realized what was going on, Stiles dragged her into the middle of the dancing throng.

“Oh no,” Lydia said, anticipating the worst.  But Stiles was just goofily dancing, not caring at the astonishment of the other people around them at seeing such unconventional dancing at a club. Lydia stood there next to him, hand to her mouth at the sight of Stiles’ dancing. He was all shuffling feet, flailing arms and legs, and funny faces.  

“Come on!” Stiles yelled at her.  Lydia hesitated for a moment. She stood there, arms held out awkwardly.  She couldn’t decide what to do.  People didn’t dance like this at clubs.  “Don’t worry about everybody else!  Who cares?” Stiles grinned at her.  She hadn’t seen him this happy in a while.

Oh, well...what the heck?  Stiles held out a hand and Lydia took it.

Lydia threw up her arms, did a little spin and did some “dancing” of her own.  She actually found herself enjoying it as Stiles dipped her. Who knew being silly was so much fun?  She got great satisfaction out of a dancing at a club like they were, but not grinding or doing any of the gross stuff like everybody else.

“This is crazy!” Lydia said to him, after Stiles did the “sprinkler” with one arm behind his head, and the other arm straight out, going from side to side.

“Of course it is! But that’s what it makes fun, right?”

“It totally does,” Lydia said. “Who knew?”

“I always did,” Stiles said. “You should hang out with me more.”

“Yeah, apparently I’ve been missing out,” Lydia said. She waved her arms around and Stiles followed suit. She knew they looked ridiculous, basically dancing to their own rhythms. But she was having way too much fun to care. Lydia didn’t remember when she last had this much fun. It was way before Allison’s death, that was for sure.           

Frowning, Stiles suddenly pulled out his phone. “Uh-oh. I have to take this. I’ll be right back, ok?” He lightly touched her on the arm and pushed his way through the edge of the crowd to a quieter location.  That put an end to that.           

A guy came up to her and grabbed her hands. “Hey, babe…”           

“Ew! Get away from me!” Lydia said, snatching her hands away. The guy pouted and scurried away. But just as soon as that guy left, another in a black tank top started grinding on her.           

“In your dreams!” She snapped at him. Lydia carefully stepped around him, avoiding all possible skin contact and went against the grinding throng of people, deciding she could use another drink, anything to drown out the cacophony of noise and smell of body odor that overwhelmed her.           

Lydia was a mere few feet from the bar when she saw Malia sitting awkwardly on a bar stool.  Lydia found it ironic that out of all the things that Malia seemed to already know about clubbing and what to do in a bar, this wasn’t one of them.  That is, until Lydia pushed her way further through the crowd and discovered that things weren’t all that they seemed. _Ew._  She dug a fingernail into Malia’s arm.           

“Ow!”           

“Malia, aren’t you dating Stiles?” Malia currently straddled a random guy’s lap at the bar.

“Yeah, well, it’s casual dating.”

“Does he know that?” Lydia asked her, appalled.

“He does now.” Malia leaned forward and kissed the guy, clearly using tongue. Lydia quickly turned away.

She banged on the bar. “Long Island Iced Tea, please.”  Lydia couldn’t take this any longer. The only way she would survive the rest of this night was by drinking more alcohol.  The minute she stepped into the club all possibility of enjoyment went out the window--the only exception being dancing with Stiles. At least if she was drunk she wouldn’t remember this night. Hopefully.  

Lydia ordered and turned her head for a moment, to see Stiles, clearly searching the crowd for her and Malia.

“Stiles! Over here!” Lydia waved her arms over her head.  Stiles noticed her and started making his way over through the crowd, looking thoroughly disgusted.  Lydia went to get her drink only to see Malia untangle herself from the stranger’s lap and knock over Lydia’s drink in the process.

“Thank you, Malia!” Lydia said sarcastically.

Malia stared at Lydia. “You’re welcome?”

Before Lydia could open her mouth to tell Malia off for spilling her drink, Stiles appeared in front of them.  He gave a kind of full body shake.

“Oh my god! That was literally the most disgusting thing I’ve ever encountered in my life. And we all know the amount of disgusting things I’ve experienced.”

Malia and Lydia just stared blankly at him.

“What?   _A lot,_ ok?” Stiles faltered. “Especially in the past year.”

Lydia just rolled her eyes and Malia crossed her arms.

“Seriously, there are parts of the human body I never _ever_ wanted to touch that I touched in that crowd. Different _sweaty_ parts. I need to get hosed down in Purell or something.”

“Have a drink, Stiles,” Lydia said, unimpressed. “If you’re lucky, you’ll forget the whole experience.”

“Already have one.” Stiles raised his hand, in which he had a full glass.  “ _Anyway..._ since you girls seem totally fine on your own, that much is clear...I have to go help Scott with something supernatural related. But are you girls ok here alone?”

“Duh...are you gonna finish that?”  Malia pointed to Stiles’ glass, this one appeared milder, which he had only taken two sips of.

“Uh, I guess not…” Stiles looked down at his glass.  Lydia’s mouth twitched. Malia had basically taken both of Stiles’ drinks. He barely drank anything the whole night, having had a total of three sips in two and a half hours.

Malia kissed Stiles’ hard on the mouth. “Thanks, babe.” Lydia and Stiles watched in awe as she drank the glass in one huge gulp this time.

“I still don’t get how you can do that,” Stiles said, shaking his head.

“What can I say? I’m just that good.” Malia nudged Stiles playfully in the side with her hip.

“Stay here, ok? And call me to pick you up. I don’t want you taking a sketchy cab or whatever at this hour.”

“Gladly,” Malia said. She burped and then joined the rest of the crowd on the dance floor.

“Are you sure you’re ok?  Go have fun! Look at Malia, join her, clubbing.  Clubbing it up!”  Stiles waved his arms around.

Lydia sighed. “Yeah, right.” She smiled weakly at him.

“You’ll keep an eye on her? You know how she can be.”

“Of course.” Lydia nodded, trying her best to appear happy.

“I knew I could count on you. Thanks, Lydia. You’re the best!” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and abruptly turned away. Stiles’ ears were red. Lydia stared after him, placing her hand up to the cheek he kissed her. The spot literally tingled.

Lydia shook herself back to reality and went back to the bar to order another Long Island Iced Tea. She wasn’t going to survive the night with Malia otherwise. Lydia nursed the drink for the next 20 minutes or so, savoring the taste on her tongue.

“Lydia! Hellooo!” Malia literally jumped in front of Lydia. “Isn’t this sooo much fun!” Malia laughed hysterically.

“Totally,” Lydia said dryly. She took a sip of her drink. All of a sudden, Malia snatched it out of her hand.

“Thanks!” Malia slurped down the drink like it was merely water. Lydia glared at her. At least she had managed to drink half of it before Malia stole it. Regardless, Lydia made a mental note to never again drink around Malia. Lydia wasn’t going to get drunk with Malia in her presence, that much was obvious.  

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink?” Lydia raised her eyebrows.

“Nah!” Malia giggled. “Seems like you _haven’t,_ though.”

“Ha ha.” Lydia frowned. “Seriously, though, Malia. You’re going to get sick. Just slow down.”

“I’ll be fine! Werewolves can’t get drunk, remember? And god, can you be any more boring?”

“Me? Boring?” Lydia felt heat rise in her cheeks. How dare Malia call her boring?

“Dance with me, then.” Malia held out her hand.

“I’m not nearly drunk enough for that.”  Lydia had barely finished the sentence when Malia shoved a drink in her hand.

“What--”

“That guy gave me his drink he just bought. I hiked up my skirt a few inches and BOOM.” Malia grinned at Lydia. “Cool, right?”

“I guess…” Malia pushed Lydia’s hand.

“Drink.”

“Whatever.” Lydia took a sip.

“No, _drink.”_ Malia pushed the glass up to Lydia’s mouth. Lydia finished the drink, albeit taking more time than Malia’s average time consumption.

Lydia knew the drink was strong.  Stronger than she had initially realized. Already she felt her brain feeling a little fuzzy.  She coughed as the alcohol burned her throat, especially at the rate in which Malia forced her to drink it.

“Malia, I don’t know if this was such a good idea after all…”  Lydia hated herself for letting Malia coerce herself into this. But no one was going to call her boring, dammit! If anything, Lydia Martin was definitely _not_ boring.

“Lydia, come _on._ And this time, none of that stupid dancing.  It’s time for the real stuff.”

“I _hate_ clubs, Malia! Ugh!” Lydia stumbled onto the floor as Malia pulled her. Malia threw up her hands and pulled Lydia closer.  Lydia felt the effects of the alcohol. That giddy feeling filled up her brain, closing out any other rational thoughts. It was like Lydia wasn’t even thinking. It was just the giddiness and the music and the beat.  Lydia had to move. She had to dance. She just _had_ to follow the beat. So for the second time that night, Lydia found herself dancing.  But this time, she was actually dancing _to_ the music.

A while later, they removed their sweat soaked bodies from the dance floor. Malia clutched her stomach.   Lydia, feeling rather drunk herself, barely managed to guide Malia to the bathroom.

“Oh, God. Oh God. I’m gonna be sick,” Malia moaned. She barely made it into the bathroom stall, narrowly missing the doorframe in her haste.

Lydia felt shaky herself, but knew Malia needed her. Lydia swallowed her own nausea and knelt beside her next to the toilet. She held Malia’s hair back as Malia puked into the toilet.

Lydia, completely grossed out, looked away, but not fast enough. She couldn’t stand vomit.

“Oh no…” Lydia felt bile climbing up her throat. “Mmm…” She tried to say “Malia” but her mouth was full.  Lydia shoved Malia aside and then threw up herself.  “Dear God, what did you give me?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Malia said weakly. “I barely know what I drank myself.”  Malia retched again, narrowly missing Lydia’s head.  

“Well, that much is obvious.”  Lydia threw up again and groaned. She truly didn’t imagine her night ending like this.  “I thought werewolves couldn’t get drunk?”

“I don’t know!  Why this is happening?” Malia wailed.  

For the next half hour, Lydia and Malia took turns throwing up.  They probably would have remained there if they hadn’t been kicked out. The club closed at 2 AM.  That was it. Their nausea didn’t make a difference, the two of them had to get out of there.

“Uh-oh,” Malia said. “I can’t find my phone.” Malia opened her clutch and dumped the contents on the bar, despite the chaos of closing surrounding them. A crowd was still at the bar, hoping to get some last minute drinks for the night before they truly left. Malia tripped and managed to grip the edge of the bar for support. She was pale.

Lydia sighed. “Here, take my phone and call Stiles.  I’ll go see if I can find your phone.”

Lydia walked further down, hoping to talk to a bartender or the manager or _someone_ so they can somehow find Malia’s phone. She finally managed to talk to someone, who said they would be on the lookout for the phone. Lydia gave the girl, a cute blonde with a nose ring her phone number and went back to find Malia.

“Let’s get out of here,” Lydia said. “I gave that bartender our numbers. She’s going to let the manager know. They’ll call me if they find it.”

“They better,” Malia grumbled.  “I can’t lose yet _another_ thing.  My dad already yells at me for not keeping track of my stuff.”

“Well, we can only hope,” Lydia shrugged. “I mean, it _is_ an expensive phone.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone could have stolen it.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t I just say why? It’s an expensive phone. That means people will want it.”

“Well, that’s just ridiculous,” Malia said. “It’s just a phone.”

“Yeah, ‘just a phone,’” Lydia said, rolling her eyes. “To you maybe.”           

“I don’t get it.”  Malia rubbed her eyes tiredly, smudging her mascara.           

“Whatever, we have to get going.” Malia grabbed hold of Lydia and followed her out of the club. Lydia didn’t drink as much as Malia, who was still pretty clearly sick. From what, Lydia didn’t know, being as how apparently it wasn’t possible for Malia to get drunk.  Malia stumbled and couldn't hold herself upright in her heels, nearly pulling Lydia down with her.           

They barely made it out of the club in one piece. “Where’s my phone?” Lydia suddenly remembered that Malia had never given it back to her.           

“Huh?”           

“ _My_ phone. Where is it?”           

“Oh! _That!_ I dropped it. It was an accident.  But you know, it was like, insanely heavy.” Malia suddenly burst out laughing. “Whoops.”           

Lydia suddenly felt nauseous again. Her beloved iPhone, lost in a club. All because of Malia.           

“You little--”             

“Oh, shut up.”           

“ _What did you just say?”_ Lydia gritted her teeth.           

“I said, ‘shut up,’ my head hurts.”           

“Your head hurts? Well, too bad. I just can’t believe…” Yelling at Malia wasn’t going to do anything to help matters. Lydia stopped and took a deep breath.  “Did you at least get a chance to call Stiles before you lost my phone?”           

“I-I don’t remember.” Malia groaned. “My head hurts.”           

“Well, that’s a big surprise. You drank your water weight in alcohol I’m sure.”           

“What does that even mean? Why do you talk like that? I never understand you...even on a good day. Besides, Scott said I can’t get drunk--”           

“Maybe some guy put something in your drink. You ever think of that, huh?”           

“Why would someone want to do that?”           

“Probably so they could take you home and sleep with you...and maybe do other things.  Bad things.”           

“What kind of bad things?”           

“I really don’t want to get into this right now.” It was honestly too late for this and Lydia was tired.           

“You don’t think I can handle it.”           

“It’s not that! It’s just...I’m tired, Malia. I’m tired of all of this. Not just _this,_ exactly, but everything. All this supernatural crap.  I mean, look at what we deal with on a daily basis.”           

“Well, I’m sorry that you can’t handle it, Lydia, God!”           

“I’m not saying I can’t--” Lydia began, but then stopped. She sighed. “Look, we can fight all day, but that’s not going to get us home now, will it?”           

“Apparently not. That kind of thing only seems to work for you and Stiles.”           

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”           

“Exactly what it says. Aren’t you the one with the 170 IQ?”           

“Ok, _sweetheart,_ here’s what we’re going to do…” Lydia couldn’t get out just what she wanted them both to do, because once they made it out the door, they were pushed against the outside wall of the club with a force that caused Lydia’s head to pound more than it already did from the alcohol she drank. The moving mass of the last hundred people that once made up the dance floor continued to spill out the door in droves, shoving the two of them out of their way. Neither of them had the strength to fight back, and allowed the others to bump them so now they stood, yards away from the door on a dark street corner.           

“Pain. Excruciating pain...worse than transforming…” Malia mumbled under her breath.  One hand rested against the wall for support, the other clutched her head. “I’m going to be…”           

“Oh no...no...no…” Lydia said in a warning voice. It didn’t do any good whatsoever.           

Malia retched for what had to be the hundredth time that night.  Lydia turned away in time, but the sound caused her to vomit as well. Problem was, Lydia didn’t really have much to vomit out of her stomach in the first place.           

“This is awful. Never again,” Lydia said, as she pressed her hands against her stomach, failing at stopping the dry heaves that consumed her.  She had managed to get a hold of Malia and led her to the sidewalk curb, away from the madness.             

“Well, well, what do we have here…” A snide voice came from the dark corner of the club’s doorway. Lydia tensed.           

“A bunch of stupid drunk girlies.  Just how I like them,” came another, deeper voice.           

Lydia froze. “Do not say anything, let me do all the talking,” she hissed at Malia.  Malia, of course, ignored her.           

“We need help,” Malia said. “We’re sick.”           

“Drunk, more like it.  Such dumb girls.”  The men creeped closer. Lydia’s heart raced.  What could they really do? They were both so weak, Malia especially. But at the same time, Lydia refused to be taken advantage of like this.

Lydia had faced tough situations before.  What about being nearly strangled to death and screaming to save her life, all while suffering from really bad period cramps? Or nearly bleeding out on a lacrosse field in a _prom dress_ of all things?  And don’t even get her started on facing the nogitsune wearing a short skirt and heels.           

“We’ll be ok, thanks though.”           

Deep Voice chuckled. “Doesn’t look like it, now does it? Especially with your friend over there convulsing against the wall.”           

“Yeah? Well, she’s drunk. What do you expect?”           

The other guy, who had an unnaturally thick neck now that he came closer added, “Girlie, that’s not drunk. Your little friend has been doing drugs. Seriously, what is she on?”           

“Hard core stuff from the looks of it,” Deep Voice answered. “Got any left?”           

“What are you talking about it? My friend is not--” Lydia turned around when she heard a low growl from Malia. Oh shit. Malia had her fists clenched and her eyes were blue. Luckily her hair hid her face, so only Lydia, familiar with werewolves--oh sorry, _werecoyotes--_ could really know what was wrong with her friend.           

Lydia bit her lip. How the hell was she going to get her and Malia out of this?  
           

“I’ll take care of it,” Lydia whispered to Malia. Malia just stared at her and growled in response. This one was deeper.  Lydia swallowed the nausea that erupted in her stomach. She was literally trapped between two life threatening situations here.  What was a girl to do?           

When Lydia faced their opponents again, they were a lot closer.           

“Look, we don’t have anything,” Lydia said. “You honestly think a girl like me would do drugs? Do you know how long it takes me to look like this? No way would I ruin this perfect skin and body to give me a short-lived high.  Someone must have slipped something into her drink. Wouldn’t be the first time.”           

Thick Neck hesitated. “Girl has a point.”  Deep Voice rolled his eyes.           

“She’s lying.”  They walked closer to them and now only a few steps away. “Now girls, this will be a lot easier if you don’t fight us.  How about we go for a walk, huh?”           

Lydia shivered. “Come any closer...and I’ll--I’ll scream.” She nodded her head.           

“If you scream, we’ll kill you.  Or maybe we’ll kill your friend first. Who knows what we’ll do?”           

Lydia’s mouth was so dry; she could barely even formulate the words. “I’d like to see you try.”           

“Well, that’s quite an invitation.” Deep Voice now stood in front of her. Lydia flinched. He was breathing deeply in her face. His breath reeked of whiskey and cigarettes. She forced herself to remain calm. Should she risk screaming? No. She wouldn’t. Lydia slowly loosened one foot from her heels.  If only she could grab it without him seeing.           

“You think this is supposed to scare me?” Lydia rolled her eyes. “Nice try, buddy.” The man scoffed at her.  Lydia slowly raised her right leg, so her heel was now pressing against her thigh. Her right hand grasped it.             

“You think you’re oh so brave attitude can work on me?”

“ _Sweetheart,_ this isn’t an attitude. More like a lifestyle, if anything. You think this is the first time a creep like you acted like this towards me?” Lydia clutched her black heel, her only lifeline. Slowly, she placed her right foot back on the pavement, maintaining the height of the heel and holding the shoe behind her back, trying to be casual. Looking lopsided would only make everything that much more obvious.

Malia clawed at the wall. Then she heard it. The growl was much louder and coyote-like then last time. There was no way the two guys didn’t hear it.

“What is your friend _on_?”

“This must be some intense stuff. It _turns_ you into an animal?”

Lydia hesitated. She needed a distraction. Lydia also knew that Malia was learning to control her powers so she didn’t feel the urge to kill.   _Learning_ being the key word here.  It had to be hard for Malia, being both drugged _and_ trying to control her blood lust.

So Lydia did what she knew best.  Lydia screamed. She honestly doubted that her and Malia would be killed in cold blood right there on the sidewalk from this anyway, no matter if these guys claimed to suggest otherwise.  Plus, Lydia hoped Malia’s werecoyote instincts would kick in and she would attack the two douchebags for them.  That is, if Malia bypassed Lydia.  Minor detail.

This was it, Deep Voice launched himself at her, of which Lydia was prepared. She had her heel ready. Lydia adjusted her grip on the heel and as Deep Voice came toward her, Lydia gave a tiny jump and dug the heel right into the fleshy part of his neck, which luckily wasn’t as thick as his friend’s.  The guy screeched and abruptly fell, clutching his neck.  Blood trickled out, slowly at first and then picked up speed.

Whether it was from Lydia’s blood-piercing scream, of which being a banshee was certainly a plus, or from being attacked in the neck by the heel (Lydia certainly hoped it was both, but she didn’t know), it still stopped them. Deep Voice called for Thick Neck to do his bidding, but the guy was too busy staring in horror at the two girls. Malia, who was now lashing out at them and Lydia, who was still screaming and brandishing her heel around her head.

“Why you little bitch!” Thick Neck sprang into action at the sight of his friend in pain.

“Malia!   _Run!_ ”  Lydia ran, hearing the pounding of feet behind her.  She risked a quick look to see Malia at her heels, but with the two guys close behind.  To Lydia’s horror, Malia tripped over something on the ground and stumbled and fell.

“Malia!” Lydia screamed. Malia was on her knees and the two men quickly surrounded her. Lydia froze as Malia hesitated for a moment and then let the animal side of her fully take over. She howled.

The guys quaked at the sight.  They scrambled backwards on their hands and knees. Malia reared over them, ready to attack, claws and all.  The guys, tripping over their own feet, turned around and couldn’t sprint out of there fast enough.

“Malia!” Lydia called out again. “Please, let’s just get out of here.” Lydia found herself crying.  She had enough for one night.  She vowed never to go clubbing again.  

Malia caught up to Lydia.  She had managed to turn human again.  “God, that was rough. I think vomiting so much got my system all out of whack.”  Sweat coated her skin. Her hair was limp and wet, strands sticking to her face.

“That was awful.”  Lydia agreed. “But what are we going to do? Should we just walk around until we find a drugstore or something? Maybe we can call Stiles from there.  It’s just, I’m afraid this might happen again.”

“Lydia, hello! I’m a werecoyote, remember? I’ll just transform again.” Malia shrugged. “Sure, I have like the worst migraine ever and can’t really walk straight, but hey, if it saves both our lives, I’ll do it, no matter the pain and the people I’ll mentally scar.”

“I’m flattered,” Lydia said. “Let’s just walk.  Fast.  I want to get as far from this place as possible.”

“Sounds good to me.”

They walked only a few steps when a familiar blue Jeep rounded the corner and gave a series of beeps. The Jeep sped down the street and settled haphazardly on the curb a yard from the two girls.

Stiles fell out of the Jeep in his haste to get out of the car. He got up so quickly, that he didn’t even notice that his pants tore at the knee, which was now bleeding.  

“Are you girls ok?” Stiles was pale and Lydia couldn’t help but notice his hands shaking a bit. “I didn’t hear from you and I got worried. I was just out my way out the door of Scott’s house when he heard Lydia’s scream and your roar, Malia. Scott told me you were pretty much still right near the club.  He sensed you weren’t in any danger, though.” Stiles gave them the once over. “But now I firmly believe he sensed wrong about the danger part. Obviously. You two look like you’ve been through the wringer. Literally.”

“We’re fine,” Malia said. “We totally handled it.  Right, Lydia?”

Lydia swallowed. “Yeah, totally.”  Stiles looked at her closely, as if he could tell there was much more to the story and things weren’t “totally handled.”

“It doesn’t look like it,” Stiles said, placing hands on his hips. “Is that blood on you Lydia? And Malia, did you...did you _transform?”_

“Calm down, Stiles,” Malia said, rolling her eyes. “We survived.”

“Barely,” Stiles said under his breath. “You look like you were in World War III for the love of God.”

Stiles was right. Malia was covered in a shiny sheen sweat and was shaking from head to toe. Her eyes still looked crazed, but it also could have been her smudged makeup that accentuated that fact. Malia wrapped her arms around herself and dramatically let out a whimper, which Lydia assumed was for Stiles, in hopes to get some sympathy from him.

Lydia looked down at herself. Her arms and legs were covered in scrapes and bruises. Blood trickled down her right leg and there was even some blood on her hands. Lydia had underestimated just how much blood her heel attack had produced, clearly.

“Ok, look,” Lydia said. “We took care of it. Honestly. I’m just a little shaken is all.”

Stiles took a deep breath. “Let’s just get in the car and you can tell me what happened.”

Once in the car and Stiles gave both of them a more thorough once over for any life threatening injuries, he asked for the full story.

Malia relayed the tale, with Lydia interjecting every once in a while, much to Malia’s annoyance.

“That is some story,” Stiles said. “You both sounded bad ass though.  I’m proud of you.  And to think, you guys were literally puking your brains out like a half hour before. Imagine what you’re capable of without being weak from dehydration.”

Stiles ran his eyes appraisingly at both Lydia and Malia, as if he hadn’t seen them both earlier, and added. “Definitely keep those outfits.  You know, for next time.”

“Of course, Stiles. Naturally our only job in life is to please you. I must have forgot,” Lydia said.  “And if you think I’m going back to a club, especially after this, then you’re delusional.”

“Hey, hey. No need for the attitude, Lydia.  I _am_ driving you home after all.”

Lydia sat back against the seat and made a face at Stiles, who just merely winked at her. Ugh. Why did he have to be so _infuriating?_

“Well, I’m going back. I loved it. Minus the attack part. But whatever. Nothing a werecoyote can’t handle,” Malia said, shrugging.

“You do realize you can’t just go around and roar at anyone who bothers you, right?” Lydia asked.

“Duh. I’m just saying...I can defend myself from the weirdos in the world in a worst case scenario. That’s the least of it, though. I actually had a lot of fun tonight...unlike you, anyway.”

“I had fun. Kind of,” Lydia said defensively. “I had fun dancing with Stiles.”

“Oh yeah, your lame dancing with Stiles was absolutely _riveting_ to watch."

“Congratulations, you actually appropriately used a PSAT in a word in a sentence,” Lydia shot back.  "There might be hope for you yet."

“Always the smart one, aren’t you?” Malia narrowed her eyes at Lydia and then promptly faced the front again. There was an awkward silence in the car. She rifled through her purse.

“By the way…” Malia began hesitantly. Lydia braced herself for another biting remark, but was surprised not to get one. “I found this on the sidewalk outside of the club. It’s your phone, right? I recognized the floral phone case.”

“Oh my god!” Lydia grabbed it out of Malia’s hands. “This is...great! Thanks!” Lydia stared in wonderment at the phone in her lap, not quite believing it to be true.  She suddenly felt guilty over being so brash with Malia all this time.

“No problem, though, you know, that’s what I tripped over.  In the end, it almost killed me.”

Lydia turned the phone over in her hands and ran her fingers over the screen, which was cracked.

“I can’t believe you lost my phone and then found it in the end...the screen is scratched, though.” Lydia gave Malia a dirty look.

“Well, I’m the one who actually _lost_ my phone, so…” Malia shrugged.

“So? _So?_ Malia, you lost both of our phones at one point. How irresponsible can you be? You are paying for a new screen for me.  You’re the one who lost it in the first place.”

“Am not.” Malia frowned.

“Um...yeah, you are.”

“No.”

“ _No?”_

“No, I refuse.”

Lydia threw up her hands. “That’s it. _That’s it._ Next time you go clubbing, count me out. You can kiss all the random guys you want and get drunk and go rot in an alley somewhere. I don’t give a shit anymore.”

Malia glared at Lydia. Lydia glared back.

Stiles cleared his throat from the driver’s seat. “Kind of harsh, isn’t it, Lydia?”

“No, it’s not,” Lydia said darkly, sinking in her seat, crossing her arms.  “You didn’t see the way she acted tonight.”  

The Stiles Before Malia wouldn’t have given a damn what Lydia had said. He would probably have sat back and relished the tone and attitude behind her words. Her and Stiles were cut from the cloth and appreciated the same kind of things. But not anymore. The Stiles With Malia defended her at all costs.  And Lydia was now pushed to the curb.

“It’s called a club, that’s what you do at clubs, Ms. Smarty Pants.” Malia stuck out her tongue at Lydia. Lydia turned away.

“Whatever, you still need to pay for a new screen.”

“This is getting boring,” Malia said, rolling her eyes. “Can we at least go back to the club? That way, I can drown out your annoying voice with the rest of the crowd and not have to listen to you go on and on about your stupid phone anymore.”

“Oh, really? _I’m_ annoying? That’s a good one. _You’re_ annoying!  And by the way, the club is _closed_. That’s why we both got attacked in the first place. We were the last ones to leave that godforsaken place.”

“Funny that’s how you see it--”

“Yes, it’s how I see it, _sweetheart_ \--”

Stiles tried interjecting again. “How are my two favorite girls doing?”  As if designating them as his “favorite girls” was going to make a difference at this point.

Both Malia and Lydia turned to him and said simultaneously, “SHUT UP.”

Stiles opened his mouth to say something but then abruptly closed it. He didn’t appear happy.

“Whatever,” he said. “I’m taking you girls home.”  He snuck another look at Malia and then Lydia in the rearview mirror.           

Lydia just pursed her lips and quickly looked away.  

 

“Thanks for the notes, as always, Lydia,” Stiles said.  It was the next afternoon.  Stiles stood with Lydia in front of her house. He had stopped by on what, Lydia assumed, was on his way to Malia’s.             

She nodded curtly at him. Lydia knew it was stupid, but she was kind of angry with him. She had hoped he would side with her, concerning her iPhone that needed fixing. But she had soon realized she had underestimated Stiles’ feelings for Malia. His loyalty ran deeper than she could have ever imagined.  Lydia couldn’t help but feel bitter about it. Stiles always gave most of his attention to her (well, besides to Scott and his dad) and she wasn’t used to sharing it with another girl.           

“Hey...is something going on? Do you have a problem with Malia?  You two were at each other’s throats all night last night.”           

“Well, where should I start? Where she _lost_ my phone or then later discovering it with my screen _cracked_? Or how she took it upon herself to just pick out a random dress out of my closet? Or when she borrowed my red highlighter and used up all the ink? It’s different when I borrow _her_ highlighters though, like that one time…”

“Ok, ok, I get it,” Stiles said, holding up a hand. He grew solemn.  “Are you sure this is all about Malia though? It seems like silly stupid stuff. You know Malia is new to all this, right? I just thought you would be more patient with her, to be honest--”           

 _“Patient?”_ Lydia sputtered. “Are you serious?”           

“Think about it,” Stiles said. “Lydia, this is right up your alley. You have this impressionable young girl who you can teach all the _right_ stuff, all the girl stuff that you wish you had known before you entered high school. You have a 170 IQ and you’re no longer the girl who hides it. I just thought you would love the opportunity to take this girl under your wing.  Put all your knowledge to good use.”           

“Thanks? I think,” Lydia said. She rolled your eyes. “I’m not quite sure if I should be offended by this or not.  And as you just pointed out, I have the 170 IQ here.”           

“No, you shouldn’t be offended, trust me.” Stiles shook his head. “Anyway, I just, I have this feeling something else is going on. Something you’re not telling me.” He stepped closer to her. “About us.”           

Lydia raised her chin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”          

“Are you sure? You’re ok? With me and Malia and everything?”           

Lydia’s confidence wavered. No, she wasn’t ok. Not in the slightest. But as always, like she always did, she woke up, applied her makeup and pulled on her fancy clothes. What else was she supposed to do? It was her cover.       

“Yes, I’m ok. There’s nothing I need to talk to you about.,” Lydia said.  Then, changing the subject, “Have fun with those notes.  Geometry is kind of hard right off the bat, since it’s just so different from the usual math. But I think these will help Malia. I’m glad that she tested into it.  It's a start and we all have to start somewhere, right?"           

“Right,” Stiles said nodding.          

She looked him straight in the eye. She faltered. Why did she always do this? Stiles’ eyes were both a blessing and a curse. They were the most beautiful brown eyes she had ever seen in her life. A light often translucent brown that glowed and shimmered in the light. But they also saw right through her. Why did she have to look him in the eye? _Why?_ And _why_ did she feel this way?           

Because she might love him. _No._ That wasn’t it.  It _couldn’t_ be.  Anyway, what did it matter now? It was too late.          

“Right,” Stiles said, once more. He stared at her.  She stared back.           

Finally, Lydia crossed her arms and tilted her head.  She had a question to ask, but was trying to work up the nerve to do so. “I have a question for you, though.”  She swallowed, trying to work up the nerve.  Lydia worried Stiles would take it the wrong way.          

“Ok…” Stiles squinted at her, analyzing and trying to read her.

Uh-oh. That was his thinking face. Lydia had to get out of there. And fast. The longer she stayed, the more Stiles would figure out everything.  But of course, Lydia’s curiosity got the better of her.  Naturally. When didn’t it?

“How do you do it? I mean, honestly, it just seems like you’re her babysitter.  What do you see in her anyway?”           

“Because I... I really like her, Lydia. It’s different with her. Ever since Eichen House, we’ve immediately just understood each other. We both know what it’s like to accidentally kill people and hurt people we love. We live with the guilt every day. We just have this kind of connection, I guess.”           

There was a silence, then Stiles added, tearing his eyes away from hers, “She’s the only girl who’s ever liked me for...well, me.” He shrugged and scuffed his feet against the dusty porch.           

Lydia nodded her head and found herself grimacing.  Oh how wrong he was.  Malia definitely wasn’t the only girl who liked Stiles for being Stiles.

There was a pang in her heart. She vaguely remembered a time long ago when Stiles was in the hospital for god knows what and she was waiting for Jackson. He had stopped to talk to her and she was on the phone. Truth was, Lydia had heard every word he said.

Deep down, she was incredibly flattered and in awe of his guts to come up to her like that but hid it for fear of her relationship with Jackson and popularity at school. Lydia would never forget Stiles’ earnest expression and wide eyes as he looked at her. Like she was special.  Like she was important.  Jackson pretended Lydia was those things when other people were around, but certainly didn’t come across like he truly felt it, especially when they were alone.           

Stiles stepped closer. “Are you ok?”  Lydia bit her lip and attempted to avoid his gaze.  Stiles then did the unthinkable. He gently touched her chin and forced her to look directly into his eyes. “I know something’s wrong.” Lydia blinked.           

“Something else about Malia, or...us, maybe?” Stiles questioned. Another step. They were mere inches apart.          

Lydia blinked again. Her eyes were getting a little moist, she didn’t know why.           

“No,” she said.           

“Really?” Stiles said, surprised.          

“I have nothing else to say. Nothing.  Nothing!” Lydia raised her voice a couple octaves at the end and startled Stiles, who took a few steps back. “Now leave me alone! Don’t you have a girl you need to potty train or something?”           

Stiles laughed bitterly. “You just aren’t going to let that go, are you? I know something’s wrong, Lydia. Come on, this is _me_ you’re talking to. We’ve been through so much together.”           

Lydia shook her head vigorously. “I already said no,” she said in the most dangerous voice she can muster. “Now, please, just go. This conversation is over. I’m done with this pointless and ridiculous conversation.  So I’m just going to go. See you around.”   

Stiles threw up his hands. “Fine, whatever.”

 “Good.”           

“Great!” Stiles said sarcastically, giving her a thumbs up with a forced grin before he bounded down the steps and got into his Jeep, slamming the door harder than necessary, even for him.  Lydia knew he was mad and she didn’t blame him one bit.  But then, so was she. Lydia did the same with her own front door, though she doubted Stiles noticed.

Lydia almost _almost_ maintained the willpower not to look back. But she didn’t. Lydia immediately whirled around and opened the door a crack, just in time to see the blue of Stiles’ jeep as it disappeared down the road.           

Lydia sniffled. She brought a hand to her eyes and felt them come back wet. She was definitely crying. She watched the Jeep disappear. So this was what it felt like? To see the boy you realized you loved too late be with another girl? Lydia’s heart literally ached.  It sucked. Everything sucked. So Lydia did whatever a girl in her situation would do. She grabbed her purse.  Destination: Mall.  Later: Drowning herself in alcohol.

  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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